Tempestatum Inferni
by cnrbanks1212
Summary: Matt Karson, a Delta-Force operative and his team have been sent to Banoi to investigate the disappearance of Colonel White and to figure out what has happened. Little do they know of the zombie outbreak that has plagued the Island and his team is slaughtered leaving him alone. On the beaches of the island is acting doctor Megan Kuon, how will they meet and fair in Hell on Earth?


**So this is the first horror oriented story I have made thus far so it may be sub par, however I'd appreciate any constructive criticism that you may have for me. Also please note that the story is M rated once again for visceral violence and for a variety of unkind language. One last thing, I will be continuing both the stories I am currently writing. Enjoy!**

The MH-53 Pavelow jutted wildly as the monsoon's winds attempted to thwart it's attempts to approach the island of Banoi. Inside the pilots did their best to navigate the vicious thick clouds but they were hard pressed. Their controls constantly bucked as they combated the growing storm and they cursed as the dark cumulonimbus clouds directed lightning with the intent to destroy them. In the cargo hold the eight Delta-Force operators tried to keep their stomachs from twisting and convulsing, spewing their breakfasts and whatever else they had consumed, all over the rest of the cargo hold.

Corporal Matthew Karson listened to Gunnery Sergeant, James Mack breath obscenities as the Pavelow bucked once again, "Oh good God, just get me on solid ground." he pleaded. Karson seconded the notion with a curt nod. He had no idea which maniac senate worker had proposed the idea of sending the elite team of operators into the mysterious island of Banoi but after the disappearance of Colonel Ryder White and his supporting teams, the government's curiosity had peaked and they had decided to send their best to take recon and if possible assist the denizens of the remote and largely unexplored place. The team knew a little about the island in general, it happened to be an incredibly beautiful place when it had clear skies, and was a target for all who had an inclining to escape from the dredges of society for a much needed vacation, as well as the fact that it was a perfect place for the partying and swimming types. Karson himself had seen several ads depicting the quite beautiful beaches and equally beautiful women. Regardless if the government was sending Delta-Force then that meant that the place was or had become a much more sinister as of recently.

"ETA Ten Mikes" chimed the pilot through their helmets. The sergeant held up his hands showing all ten fingers under the black kevlar gloves. Everyone began to check their weapons for the fifth time, testing everything they could without firing the weapons. Karson began to do something similar with his own weapons, first removed the black M9 Beretta handgun from the holster that lay strapped to his right thigh over the green-gray digital camo military pants, and removing the magazine, he tested the release, the trigger, cocked the weapon and tested the smoothness of the slide and the straightness of the iron sights. As well as scanning the weapon for any sign of grime that might interfere with the firing. He then did the same with the MP5, and finished by attaching a suppressor to both.

Minutes later the intercom chimed again, "Welcome to Moresby, gentlemen, ETA on Alpha point, thirty seconds." The pilot said again, all the operators stood, unbuckling themselves from the seats that lined the sides of the pavelow, after which they grabbed the rail that hung above them which preventing them from falling. Karson pulled the black balaclava over his head covering his short brown hair, making his steely gray-green eyes the only thing visible, after which he placed his helmet over his head adjusting the strap to clutch his head tightly. The pavelow came to a rocky hover over the building they'd be landing on. The doors on the sides of the pavelow opened releasing the ropes that would allow the troops to descend without breaking their legs, as well as allowing a torrent of rain and wind to drench the area surrounding the door. The sergeant motioned for the troops to move down the ropes with all vigor, with a series of yelling and hand motions.

The troops moved instantly and with complete efficiency sliding down the ropes and taking their defensive positions at the bottom fanning out to provide cover fire if the helicopter was under attack.

Karson attached his harness to the rope and slid down, allowing his MP5 to bump irritatingly against his tactical vest where his combat knife remained strapped to his chest as well as several ammunition magazines and a canteen. He felt his body buckle as the wind pushed and jostled him around, not helped by the monotonous rocking of the helicopter however against all odds he landed on the ground and fell into form alongside his brethren. The Sergeant hit the ground not moments after, following the ropes hitting the ground not moments after.

From there the team split into smaller teams of four who'd remain in radio contact at all times through the earpieces in each of the soldier's right ears.

Karson, despite remaining primarily focused on the mission, observed the third world city with a mixed sense of sadness and apprehension. The city was obviously a mess, even from what he could see through the vicious rain. The smaller buildings were nearly utterly decimated which could have been wear and tear under long time usage, or from the relentless rain and harsh winds of the recent monsoon or any number of things, not necessarily combat. The larger buildings were less damaged and had obviously weathered the storm but there were things that Karson didn't like the look of whatsoever, the windows were nearly all shattered and there might have been a small bits of blood in some areas but it was also entirely possible that was the discoloration of the bricks mixed with the rain obscuring his vision. Then moving in unison with the rest of his team he moved slowly to the fire escape which would allow them access through one of the window and down through the rest of the building.

The four men walked slowly as the point man tested each step of the metal but highly corroded fire escape. Staff-Sergeant George Hoole took point focusing his attention on the window they were approaching and less about the steps, probably because if it broke it would be when they applied pressure to it and it was equally likely that they would all die from the breakage of metals perforating them and there wouldn't be a thing any of them could do about it. Fortunately, the fire escape held rooted to the wall.

The window that was their entrance was also broken just as Karson had expected and was easy enough to get through if no one came into contact with the shards of glass that remained entrenched into the wooden window frame. Hoole piled in first and went to one knee raising his sub-machine gun in a defensive manner. The rest of the team funneled in with Karson in the back covering their rear.

The intercom sounded in his ear, "Alpha this is Bravo, over." said the sergeant accompanying the other team. Fingering the mic close to his collar, Sergeant Mack said, "This is Bravo, go ahead Alpha."

"No contact as of yet, it looks like the place is a ghost town."

"Roger, TACAMO and keep me posted, over."

"Roger that, will comply, out"

The team stood and walked quietly but with purpose through the hall checking every door they passed, should it open admitting them in or more likely someone else out. The hallways, reminded Karson of a kind of fairy tail forest, dark, foreboding, and eerily quiet like they were the only ones in the world. This was only enhanced by the fact that a dark gray light came through the windows and occasionally the after light of a lightning strike. Rounding the next corner they encountered much of the same, the wallpaper peeled awkwardly off the walls from the humidity and the only light of any kind was the dreary light from the rain darkened sky that seeped in through the broken windows, also allowing the cold rain and wind that whistled through the hallways and through each of the small cracks in the wall offering the trills of the wind's song.

Muffled splashes came from their feet as the short carpet released the water it held as they treaded on it.

They turned another corner which at the end a red "EXIT" sign would have glowed was it not for the "I" being burnt out, resulting in the sign sporting the word "EX T" now glowing dully. Other than that small light, the hallway was in utter darkness accompanied by a stench that they knew well. The smell of rotting flesh.

Simultaneously switching their flashlights on the operators laid the beams scanning the area.

"Oh, Jesus Christ." Said the operator beside him, his hands shaking somewhat causing the light to tremble on the corpses. The hallway, was caked in blood and gore, accompanied by an assortment of bodies, some decaying, one lying against the wall bloated and malleable, some a in pieces which lied across the wall like some sort of lego set from hell and one lying, another on the floor, face down, its arm outstretched, forearm holding a door slightly ajar, a darker patch of blood pooling around it's stomach where a few of its now, semi-dry, intestines hung.

The team stood motionless for a moment, struck dumb by the horror before them. Then the moment passed and the sergeant spoke quietly. "John, contact Alpha and appraise them of our situation. Matt, go check the door. George, you and me are gonna find out, what in God's name is going on here. Get me a ATMIST report on one of the bodies that is not FUBAR." They all set to work.

Karson walked carefully, through the series of bodies, towards the door on the far right of the hall. Not one for superstition, Karson had rarely had acted without the sense of logic. However there were times in every soldier's life when he or she was able to notice the tremors that signaled the fact that combat was imminent. This was one of those times, and so as Karson approached the door his fingers tightened around the barrel of his MP5, preparing to fire at a moments notice.

His fingers pressed against the door, which swung open easily enough, emitting large creaks and groans of protest as the unlubricated joints of the door, opened for the first time in possibly weeks. It was a simple room, probably initially meant for one or two people to use but in a third world settlement, it would have likely been meant for six or seven. The same dreary light cordoned through the small cracks in the muck covering the still solid glass, providing the room with more darkness than would normally be expected. His flashlight illuminated the area, falling upon a few blankets and garbage which lay strewn around. Cycling around the corner quickly he saw a simple wooden table, with several, now fly and maggot infested meals still on their plates. Beyond the table he saw a small kitchen which looked like a small kitchen area and beyond that, another room. Moving quickly and quietly he pushed the door slightly ajar and peered inside, revealing a simple bed with a night stand. He entered slowly examining the surrounding area, There was one simple closet, a bed, night stand, and once again blood. This time on the pillow, he moved to see the origin and discovered the remnants of a man left there. A hole was clearly visible on the side of his head and on the floor his near skeletal fingers still held the weapon that had done the deed. The .44 Magnum revolver sat there, nose diagonal from the floor still hanging loosely from the corpse's grip, the index finger still slightly curved around the trigger.

Removing the weapon from its grasp, he jerked the weapon to the left, holding the wooden grip firmly. The cylinder slid open smoothly, despite the rains incessant attempts to make the weapon rust, revealing five bullets still ready to fire.

Suddenly screams began to sound as, what sounded like George's voice, echoed through the forlorn halls, voicing his pain and misery. Karson raced back, the pistol still in his hand and rounded the corner, sprinting out of the dark room into the greater darkness.

Unaware of what was going on, Karson raised his M9, shining the tactical light attached to the bottom in the direction of the source of the screaming. Karson's eyes widened as the light fell on the Delta-Force Operator, his hands raised as he struggled in vain to remove a very much alive CORPSE?! from his neck, as it bit deeply and more deeply into his soft throat. Karson rapidly raised the pistol and pulled the trigger hearing a hiss of escaping air as the suppressor silenced what would have been a loud bang. The bullet punctured the living corpse's head, the soft, saturated tissue offering little in the way of defense and zipped out of it again with a resounding pang as it hit plate of metal that made the door of the next apartment.

However by then it was far too late as a spray of pressurized crimson liquid coded Karsons goggles, sadly notifying him the the corpse had bitten to deeply and had reached the carotid artery. There was no hope of saving George without medical assistance immediately, which there an equal lack of hope of.

Nevertheless, George, consuming all of his strength pointed at the corpse's, which had been immobile at Karson's feet before, hand shot out gripping Karson's right leg with an iron grip, followed its head which turned parallel and bit into the thin skin which otherwise protected the leg from the highly bacterial situations that he was in. The uniform that gave refuge to his skin from the harsh environment did nothing against the unusual strength of the corpse whose teeth punctured it leaving teeth marks and raking the flesh underneath and then quickly dying again as Karson shot twice into it's head. Karson doubled over, gripping the leg grimacing, he could feel that the teeth had punctured coupled with the ooze of blood that turned the green-gray of the uniform to a dark red, lucky it didn't feel like the bite had gone deep but was more a bite and then release.

Karson's eyes raised again, first coming into contact with the motionless form of George, blood pooling around the right side of his head and spreading rapidly, and then moving down the hall where the rest of the team was involved with hand to hand combat with two of the living corpses. Karson ran towards them to assist, favoring his right leg and lifting the MP5 to bear on his new targets.

Karson fired, bullets sailing through the air to hit and down the corpse combating Sergeant Mack but the other pair was to close to use an automatic without the chance of hitting Gralt. Quickly Mack removed his own M9 and shot the corpse in the head, spraying the remainder of its gray matter across the adjacent wall. Stretching out his hand, Mack assisted John in getting up.

Why isn't that feeling going away? Karson thought as Mack called over to him, "Thanks for the save, Corporal. What's George's status?"

"He's dead, sir" Karson responded solemnly. It still isn't going away… he noticed with growing dread.

"Oh," the sergeant looked at the floor. "Well, get your ass over here, we need to at least get a control on this situ-" A massive brown and tan blur slammed into both Mack and John cutting Mack off mid sentence. The impact that was caused as the blur crashed into the wall parallel to them shook the building causing dust to rain down from the ceiling.

When the dust cleared Karson saw Mack's mutilated corpse sliding down to the floor, blood spattered across the wall. Next to him was John crying out, the ribs on the right side of his body protruding and his arm mangled, he, still struggled to remain standing. The blur, now apparently a monstrously sized human or corpse entangled in what appeared to be an asylum like attire stood, apparently unfazed by the destruction that it had wrought, looked at John as his legs buckled from the pain and trauma that had been delivered to his lungs and mass blood loss. Karson raised the submachine gun and fired sending a barrage of bullets down range as well as the bloodlust he had received after seeing his companions brutally murdered with no just cause or reason and in such a fashion. The bullets merely glanced off the monster's padding or didn't lodge deep enough to do significant damage. He kept firing until he heard a click as the magazine emptied completely. But the monster stood like a statue in front of John and with a tilt of its gigantic head, drove it forward into John's sending an echoing crack as John's skull broke from the tremendous pressure and strength forced upon it.

Karson's rage boiled over and he removed both his M9 and the .44 revolver firing the both pistols in unison, screaming his frustration at not being able to save his brothers and teammates. The asylum attired monstrosity again ignored the bullets and turn to charge him into oblivion.

As the thing shot forward again, this time aiming for the last remaining squad mate, Karson heard his M9 click as the magazine emptied its last shot. He dove to the side, landing parallel to the floor, back into the room he had just vacated. He felt the floor rumble again as the creature presumably slammed into the wall that was behind him.

A small sense of panic set into him as he thought, What do I do?!, he rushed forward into the room that held the other dead body. It thankfully had not risen mostly likely because it had been shot in the head, he assumed. Karson turned to the closet and flung the doors wide searching for something, anything to stop the monstrosity. A curious sight met his eyes. A katana? The curved sheath and hilt of the longsword certainly looked like one of the Japanese Samurai-esk swords that he had seen previously in several movies. Not stopping to check he grabbed it and through the sword with its sheath over his shoulder and on to his back by way of a strap.

Quickly, Karson ran to try to get out of the room before the beast came and gave him the fatal headbutt it had given John. His limping form crossed the room slowly, the bloodied pant leg dripping his life fluid as he walked. He turned the corner surprised by lack of rumbling, Did it break through the wall and fall out?, he wondered. Through the goggles he saw that he had been horribly wrong. A roar echoed throughout the halls and the behemoth sized corpse launched itself at him, I won't make it!, Karson thought desperately.

He attempted the same trick that had worked before and tried to leap but he was woefully unable to apply the adequate amount of pressure to his right leg. The leviathan caught him in mid flight sending him flying towards the dirtied window. Karson could feel some of his ribs crack from the pressure exerted by the corpse as well as the agony of a window breaking, a shard of glass curving its way directly into his arm. He was falling.

Time seemed to slow as he fell the two stories to the ground and he noticed everything. The harshness but refreshing coolness of the wind, each of the fat wind driven rain drops spattering against his visor and his bloodied uniform allowing him a brief moment of reprieve from the hell he had endured before he'd likely meet his maker.

He observed the discoloration of the building, mixed with the gray undertone provided by the clouds.

Then with a sickening crunch his back hit the ground and his vision swam being consumed by a darkness that made the night seem so much brighter. His eyes rolled back up into his head and he laid still.

**As you might have guessed the weapons and materials that take place in this story may not necessarily be the weapons available, however I think this will increase the realism of the story. In any case please send reviews they are quite uplifting for the writer. ;)**


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